Judged
by Tanith Panic
Summary: Ten people, all who have taken a life. A supernatural judge. Two doors, leading either to eternal peace or eternal torment. How did they come to this and what will they choose?
1. Chapter 1

JUDGED

A/N: This story is quite a dark one but I hope a few people take a look. Set in a surreal room somewhere in the afterlife. A special thanks to Laurie for their valuable input.

A frisson of fear went through the young woman as she looked around the vast, dimly-lit room. No furniture but eleven chairs; no decoration or ornaments of any kind, just two doors that seemed to glow with a life of their own. Ten of the chairs were arranged to face each other, and were occupied by five men and five women. The other chair, a little more ornate than the others was occupied by a man who wore a long cloak and a hood, somewhat like a monk's apparel. This man's hood, however, was folded back almost precisely so that his pale face, deep-set eyes and determined mouth could be clearly seen.

"Who are you?" the young woman asked. She was small and beautiful, probably of Oriental origins.

"You may call me 'David'."

"What are you?" asked the ginger-haired man with the intense eyes and the permanently worried expression.

"You will learn. Maybe you would rather ask me what you yourselves are?"

"I think we are all capable of telling you what we are" the young woman spoke again, "I am Doctor Lily Chao-"

"NO."

The word, spoken softly but emphatically silenced Lily at once.

"You are not a doctor; you forfeited that right after what you did, after the path you chose."

Lily tried to remember. The only thing clear in her mind was how she had walked, dazed and frightened, out of a building, and into the path of fast moving traffic. Then, what-? Oh, no. Not that.

"Are we dead?" she asked.

"You have had your question."

David's voice was soft but fraught with menace.

He looked over at one of the other women, who was pretty and a little plump, with long shining copper-coloured hair.

"Robyn? Would you like to ask me that question?"

A memory flashed through Robyn's brain; how she had made the drinks, one for Glen, one for herself, and had sat close to him while they both drank, then seized him in a passionate hug. After the hug… what after the hug?

"Yes" she challenged him, "Are we dead?"

"Yes." David's expression was blank.

One of the men sighed. A slim man of medium height with lots of dark curls and eyes like those of an innocent child. He remembered attending some kind of appointment, possibly a blood test? There had been a sharp jab in his arm. Before that, something had been weighing on his soul.

"Did I hurt somebody?" he whispered, like a frightened child.

David gave him a twisted smile.

"I don't need to answer all, or any, of your questions if I choose not to."

Another of the men sprang to his feet.

"Look, mate. you stop playing cat and mouse with us. If you're a copper, charge us or let us go."

"A copper" David replied, and his intense features twisted in sudden amusement, "I've just told your companion Robyn that you're all dead. Why would you want a copper?"

The young blonde, whose face was as pretty as a pixie in a story book, began to cry. She was afraid to ask her question. But ask it she did, haltingly and through sobs.

"Are you sending us to hell?"

"Oh I'm not sending you anywhere. Not yet. And in the end you will have a choice."

"He's given us all drugs, the bas-"

Iain Dean, the handsome but impatient member of the group, faltered in his speech as he remembered something. How he'd aimed his gun – he knew he'd owned a gun, suddenly – at a man wearing a uniform, but a different type to the one Iain remembered wearing. The man had laughed, shrugged, and then made a deft movement. There'd been a flash of light and then… then, nothing until he'd arrived in this stupid room.

One of the men, a nervous, tall young man with a pleasant, handsome face and a mop of straight brown hair began to cry.

"Save your tears now" David told him almost kindly, "You'll shed plenty of those before you make your choices."

The other young blonde, this one with pink 'flashes' in her hair, who looked as if she had a backbone of steel under her fluffiness, asked "Can't we get this over with now?"

David's smile was pleasant but the words were clogged with menace.

"No, we can't. Every one of you will tell me their story before any choices are made.

The young blond man, who hadn't spoken before, sighed and buried his face in his hands.


	2. Chapter 2

Judged Part Two

David raked the people sitting before him with his penetrating gaze.

"I shall invite you to tell me your stories one by one in a moment. Then you will choose your door."

"Don't you mean, order, not invite?" snapped the young man with the Yorkshire accent.

"Whatever word of your choice seems suitable" David replied.

He suddenly snapped his fingers at the pink-haired blonde.

"You. Begin."

And Alicia Munroe spoke.

Alicia had always been dominated by her mother, Jill Brennan, since she was small. When she'd been five years old and attended infant school for the first time, she'd met a lovely smiley girl called Mandy Gillett and was happy to agree to be 'bestest friends' with her. She'd invited Mandy to tea the next evening. But when she'd gone home that night her mother had told her that Mandy was a vulgar little girl.

"She's been heard making _bottom_ jokes" she sniffed and continued:

"Now why don't you invite that nice Willow Pike to tea instead?"

"I hate her. Her nose runs."

Jill winced but replied:

"I'll speak to her mother and all that will stop. You invite her to tea tomorrow. Remember you've a birthday coming up soon."

That, Alicia knew, meant "Do as I say or you'll not get the present you've asked for."

So the next day she told Mandy she couldn't have her to tea and asked Willow Pike instead. Mandy told Alicia to 'go down to blackest hell' and cried herself to sleep that night.

When Alicia was sixteen she had an interview with her careers office and told her she wanted to be a travel agent. The careers officer approved. Alicia had top marks in Geography each year and if she could work hard and learn a language, there was no reason why she shouldn't be a travel agent. Her mother, however, had different ideas. She enrolled Alicia in a secretarial college, at which Alicia had no aptitude at all. So she became practically unemployable in the business world.

Alicia would have happily stacked shelves in a supermarket rather than do nothing, but her mother had just smiled and said to her:

"You can stay at home and do jobs for me to earn your keep."

"I'll not get paid any benefits if I don't look for work."

"You let me take care of that. I'll pay your National Insurance for you, and you just do what I tell you."

Alicia could have defied her mother and taken a job, even gone to university, but she was afraid she'd lose her cosy room and all the free clothes and treats. So she did housework in return for pretty outfits of her mother's choosing.

A year later she asked if she could go to an eighteenth birthday party.

"Whose?" demanded Jill.

"Mandy Gillett's."

Mandy and Alicia had met at the cinema and had made up their differences.

"No, Alicia. She's turned out to be a little tramp, just as I predicted. Now Willow's having a party soon…"

Alicia actually found the courage to go to Mandy's party without permission while her mother was away for the evening, visiting Alicia's aunt. It was there that she met Stephen Munroe, and disliked him. But Stephen was hard to shake off, and it was easier for her to let him walk her home. As her mother opened the door, the angry glare on her face turned to a saccharine smile as she spotted Steven. Jill loved men like Steven; none of that nasty gay nonsense and he also thought feminism was the most stupid idea he'd ever heard of. Little by little, Alicia's resistance was worn down and she found herself walking down the aisle – no registry office wedding for Jill Brennan's daughter! - to Stephen almost as if she'd sleepwalked into it.

When Alicia returned from her doctor's appointment and told Stephen she couldn't have children, the slap she'd been dreading never came. Instead Stephen hugged her.

"That's fine, my little fluff brains, now I get you all to myself."

In time Jill began to suffer from dementia. Steve was outraged at Alicia's suggestion. Put Mrs Brennan in a home? When Alicia was there to look after her twenty-four hours a day? So Alicia put up with all the strange words, all the forgetfulness, and worst of all, the disgusting incontinence by day, and Steven's fumblings and gropings by night. Alicia would take her mother shopping, dreading what she could only describe as two hours of torment, while Stephen, who drove them there and back, enjoyed two hours of listening to his I Pad and relaxing.

One day she snapped at Jill while she was wheeling her along the street. A neighbour said bluntly:

"All those lovely clothes and things you've had from your mother, Alicia, and now you begrudge her a little fresh air?"

Alicia bit back the retort.

Things came to a head when Alicia was preparing the evening meal one day. She was used to Jill's questions, endless repetitions of 'what time do we eat?' and constant jabbering. But this evening she had the radio turned up loudly. Alicia heard every word of the news broadcast.

Mandy Gillett had been murdered by her husband, who had found her in bed with a woman; a colleague from work.

Jill began to cackle, as if she understood the words the announcer had spoken perfectly.

"A lesbian. That nasty girl was a lesbian. No wonder her husband got rid of her, the filthy little slut…"

Alicia gripped the knife more tightly.

"You're lucky that Steve stopped you having anything to do with her, and made you stay friends with that nice Willow Pike. Now she's got her own florist's shop, did you know?"

Alicia wondered where the woman with dementia had gone; the one who could hardly string a lucid sentence together.

"She got what she deserved!" crowed Jill.

Her voice broke off into a repulsive gurgling croak as Alicia buried the knife in her throat.

"You murdering little bitch!" Steve felt sick. His wife was a killer, and her own mother, too. He'd never needed to hit a woman before, even the disobedient ones he'd known, but now his fist shot out. Alicia, still dazed by what she'd just done, had no more resistance than a child. As Steve's fist made contact she fell backwards, hitting her head on the stone floor. Everything went dark.

"She was destroying me" Alicia wailed to David.

"You could have left home. Taken a job. But you were too fond of your own comfort; all those lovely things your mother bought you. "

There was no gloating in David's voice. It was expressionless. He continued:

"Sit down. You'll be able to choose your door when the others have finished speaking."

Alicia sat slowly, shaking in fear.

"You!"

Honey looked up at him, clearly terrified.

"Please… not yet."

"Speak now" David's voice was inexorable.


	3. Chapter 3

JUDGED THREE

Credit to the brilliant Sweeet-as-Honey for her input here. And thanks for the reviews, as usual. They're much appreciated.

Honey swung round the pole, keeping a fixed smile on her face. She was tired and wanted to sleep when she got home, but at the moment she felt like a piece of meat in a butcher's shop.

I'll definitely go through with it tomorrow, she decided.

The next day she walked into the reception of Holby E.D. and made for the pleasant-looking man with dreadlocks.

"Hello, how can I help?"

"I need to see you on your own."

The man grinned but was still sympathetic.

"You'd be better off talking to a nurse or doctor, sweetheart. I'm just the receptionist."

"You're my dad… Noel."

Although she could have got that from his badge, Noel didn't like the way the girl had all but hissed the accusation. And damn it, she looked like Sarah.

"Why did you come looking for me?" he asked as she attacked the food on her plate voraciously.

She swallowed her mouthful and said bluntly:

"Because you owe me. You never gave Mum a penny towards my keep and you broke her heart… unless she lied to me."

Noel's face flushed, and Honey thought smugly that he knew it was true.

"I'm struggling to get by. I work in a coffee shop by day and I'm a pole dancer by night… oh don't look sanctimonious. If I hadn't told you who I was you could have just as easily been in that club tonight staring at my-"

"Honey, please. I want to help you. I do."

By the evening she had been able to put a deposit down on a nicer flat, and give both her landlord and smarmy boss at the club notice. She didn't know that Noel had sold his precious collection of figures from comics, that he'd taken years to amass, to give her the luxury she'd almost demanded. Nonetheless she felt guilty. She'd told Noel she wanted the money to start up a new business. Well; she'd do that too. After she was settled in her flat. She was sure the money Noel had given her would just be the tip of the iceberg.

The trouble with Honey was that she always wanted a little more.

More meetings with Noel followed and after these there would always be a large transfer into Honey's bank account.

It was only after the third that he began to ask awkward questions about the business. Had she arranged meetings with anybody? She had to confess that she hadn't.

"I know you're nervous, darling, but you need to start meeting people if you want to get that shop off the ground. You give me a couple of weeks, and I'll sort you out some telephone numbers of people who can help you get started.

Honey wisely came down with flu after that conversation.

When Noel realised that she'd not made a single call to the people he'd suggested she saw, Noel became a little less even-tempered. He stopped paying for expensive meals at their meetings and changed the venues to coffee shops. Not the well-known chains but horrid – at least in Honey's eyes- little places where the only choice of coffee was with milk or without.

Noel gave Honey an ultimatum. Give him proof she'd started the business or give him back his money.

"He's put his foot down" she told her friend Mercedes, in the park.

She had met Mercedes in the club where they'd danced. Mercedes had just been fired from the club because of her bad timekeeping and sharp tongue. She was also a known user. Honey was afraid of her but didn't know how to break off the friendship. When she'd not written or phoned her for ages, Mercedes had turned up on her doorstep, asking for handouts. If she didn't get them, she'd implied, she'd let the landlord of her fancy new flat know that Honey had slept with lowlife for 'pocket money'.

But Mercedes had come up with an idea this time. One that Honey dreaded but an idea all the same.

"Dad, I'm sorry."

Honey, looking almost demure, stood at the ED reception.

"So are you going to get your act together now and make me proud, darlin'?"

"Yeah. Will you meet me in the park tonight around six? I want to walk round there a bit to clear my head, see. Then I'll give you the first repayment like we've just agreed."

Noel, not smelling a rat, turned up at the park where Honey and Mercedes sat on the swings.

"Hi Dad, this is my friend Mercedes. She wanted to walk with me, that's nice, isn't it?"

Noel nodded briefly at Mercedes, not liking the look of her. He'd ask Honey to consider dropping her when he saw Honey alone.

"Let's go somewhere quieter; better for a cash handover" Honey suggested.

They walked and stopped at a quiet place by the lake, under the trees. And while Noel innocently held out his hand for the money, Mercedes was upon him, injecting a syringe into his arm. Mercedes ran off while Honey was too afraid to call the police. She stood dithering and precious time was lost. By the time the police arrived, Noel had taken the first steps to becoming dependent on heroin.

The police had arrested Honey, who had described Mercedes to them. Honey was let off with a caution; Mercedes received a short custodial sentence during which the withdrawal symptoms from her addiction tormented her, making her plan revenge. Noel had needed hospital treatment and had been too preoccupied with that to think about the money his daughter had owed him.

Mercedes broke into Noel's home while Honey was on a holiday financed by Noel's money, and had driven a scalpel into his gut. He managed to crawl to the phone but Mercedes stamped on his hand, breaking it, and waited for him to die.

When Honey came home, glowing and tanned, the police were waiting for her with devastating news. Her father had been murdered and his killer was still at large. Honey, terrified that she would be next, didn't even bother unpacking but arranged for a taxi to take her to her aunt's. The taxi driver had looked familiar.

"This isn't the way!" Honey gasped, suddenly really afraid.

"No, it's not" smirked Mercedes friend.

There was a flash of light, a pain in Honey's chest, and then she found herself sitting in the room with the other nine people and David.

"You had to be greedy" David remarked.

"I never meant for my dad to get hurt…"

"You knew what Mercedes was like. Well, maybe you'll meet her again, who knows? You'll find out when you choose your door, after the others have spoken."

"Please let me choose now!" she wailed.

"Wait your turn" David replied coldly, then:

"Time for you, I think, Ethan."

The blond man shuddered. The man with the dark curls put his hand towards his shoulder kindly, and David slapped his hand away.

"No comfort from any of you others, Ben. Ethan, speak to us. Confession is good for the soul… but will it save yours?"


	4. Chapter 4

JUDGED FOUR

A/N O/C characters in this chapter. I've also changed Ethan's occupation to an admin worker as I don't want every character to have a medical background. Trigger warning: Suicide mention.

Ethan Hardy was the archetypal "sweet old-fashioned man." He still believed in holding the door open for a lady; he liked to use 'please' and 'thank you' as much as possible and he dreamed of finding a helpless young woman to protect. That would have fulfilled all his fantasies.

His brother Cal, who was older, taller and more streetwise, used to mock him. But the mockery would only go so far; Cal would always fight in his younger brother's corner. When a bully had attacked Ethan in the yard of the Infant School he'd attended, Cal had climbed over the fence that separated Infants and Juniors and had punched the bully. The brothers would argue, certainly, having different views on life, but would always make up their differences and be there for each other.

Except this time.

"She's married, Ethan."

"Don't be a hypocrite, Caleb. You can't say you've never had a night with a married woman."

"Well, yes, but – there's something I don't like about Monika. I just get the feeling she'd eat you up and spit you out if she got the chance.

Ethan had met Monika at the cinema one wet afternoon. The film had been one of those 'indie' types with a surreal plot and low-budget actors, but Ethan had really enjoyed it. As he walked out after the film, he realised somebody was walking next to him.

"Did you enjoy it?" she'd asked.

Ethan had turned to see the beautiful redhead smiling quizzically at him.

"It was wonderful" he said passionately.

She hadn't enjoyed it so much and had pointed out the film's flaws until she'd seen the hurt in his face.

"Hey, don't take it to heart" she'd said gently.

He'd ended up buying her dinner and arranging to see her later in the week. This time they'd gone to the theatre and both loved the play.

Ethan couldn't wait to introduce her to Cal.

"Right, here we go" Ethan smiled as he rung the doorbell. Cal answered within minutes, and the smile froze on his face as he saw Monika. Monika mirrored his expression for a moment, then relaxed a little. To be fair Cal kept up the easy chat throughout the evening and served dinner with an open, friendly manner. Then he'd said casually:

"Help me wash up, Nibbles? We'll not be long, Monika."

"Can I help?" she smiled.

"No, you're the guest! You relax… I'll put you some music on."

And leaving Monika to enjoy the soothing classical sound, he steered Ethan into the kitchen.

"Nibbles… she's married."

"You don't know that."

"I do, honestly. She brought her husband in to the ED last week. He's in a wheelchair, Nibbles, and he's a lot older than she is."

"You can't prove he's her husband!"

"I read his notes - and she referred to him as her husband."

Ethan was devastated. He'd really hoped that Monika would have a special place in his life.

"Shall I have it out with her now?"

"No; we'll wind up the evening after drinks – I can always say that I'm on early shift tomorrow. But you should tackle her about this, Ethan. If she's cheating on some disabled guy with you, it's pretty shabby."

"I'll ask her out again and get to the bottom of it all."

Cal frowned.

"Better to phone her so she doesn't work her charm on you."

Ethan glared at him.

"You might think it's fine to break off a relationship over the phone but I don't!"

"I'll ignore that comment. We might as well be civilised until the lady's gone home."

Ethan asked Monika out again and as tactfully as he could, mentioned what Cal had told him.

She'd begun to cry.

"Denis might look harmless, Ethan, but he's a bully. If he weren't in that wheelchair I dread to think what he could do to me… and he has friends. The kind of friends who track people down and beat them half to death. I'm scared to leave him!"

"Why didn't you tell me you were married?" he asked sadly.

"I didn't want to lose you" she murmured into his warm skin.

"Could you find some way to leave him?" he asked urgently, "I'd find some way to protect you from him."

"I'm too frightened to make that move, darling. Let's just enjoy what we have, please?"

"You're still with her" Cal snapped a month later.

"Yes, as if it's your business."

"He's one of my patients. I don't like to think of somebody I'm treating being messed around by my own brother."

"It's a bit late for you to start playing the saint, Cal."

Cal had walked out, telling Ethan to get his life together.

Two nights afterwards, Monika had called Ethan, saying it had to end. She was too afraid of Denis.

Cal had been kind but relieved when a shame-faced Ethan had phoned him. He saw that Ethan was trying to pull himself together and had booked seats at the opera, which Ethan loved, for Ethan and himself. Ethan loved the first act, though Cal was bored, and suggested a little liquid refreshment in the interval.

As they walked into the plush bar, Ethan saw Monika and his heart turned over. It began to beat rapidly as he realised she was with Denis, and looked anything but terrified of him. She and her husband were kissing passionately. Ethan moved closer, hoping he couldn't be seen, and heard them talking:

"You play some evil little games, my darling."

"Ah, he's young. He'll get over it. He swallowed my story about your abusing me so greedily, bless him."

Ethan went white with anger. Cal tried to restrain him but Ethan was too hurt and distressed to listen to reason. Shaking off Cal's arm, he smashed his glass on the table. As a member of staff ran to clean up, Ethan advanced on Monika, holding out the jagged glass towards her face.

"You little slut – you cruel little slut- I should mark you so you don't hurt another man."

Then he dropped the glass, sobbing.

"You'll be sorry you threatened my wife" Denis hissed at him.

Cal led him away, hurried him into a taxi and got them both home. Despite the rift between himself and his brother, he sat up all night with Ethan, letting him cry all the pain out of his system.

They expected Denis to follow up his words with a visit from the police, but it didn't happen. Gradually Ethan's heart and mind healed and he was able to recover his life.

It happened so simply and brutally. Cal and Ethan were walking home happily from a meal and a brotherly chat when the car came down the narrow street. Cal's reflex action was to push Ethan out of the way. The car hit Cal full-on and he died later in the ambulance. Denis had meant what he'd said and had alerted one of his 'friends'.

Ethan, devoured by guilt, tried therapy and it worked for a while. But the memories of what he'd done were too much. Not having seen Ethan for a couple of days, a neighbour went to check on him.

He saw Ethan through the window from the back, looking as if he were staring into space. When he finally decided to break down the door and eter the front way he saw the amount of blood, and Ethan's slashed wrists.

"I killed my brother" Ethan sighed.

"You didn't kill him" Max began kindly. David looked through Max as if he didn't exist.

"Your obsession with the woman killed him" David replied bluntly, "You caused his death."

Ethan hung his head like a child who'd been reprimanded.

David's gaze fell on Robyn.

"Speak" he said simply.


	5. Chapter 5

JUDGED CHAPTER FIVE

A/N: I want to credit the brilliant Sweeet-as-Honey for her invaluable input here. And thanks for my reviews as usual.

Robyn's major problem in life had been that she'd tried to fix things, often with disastrous consequences. When she received her eagerly-awaited birthday present of a small tabby kitten at five years old, she thought the tabby markings were dirt and had crept downstairs just after midnight and put him in a bowl of water to wash him. Luckily for the little animal, Robyn's mother had heard the water running and had come to investigate. Sammy the kitten was soon rescued, and dried but from that day on he would never go near Robyn again. Robyn's mother, who was not a cruel woman by nature, had told Robyn that it was her own fault if her special birthday kitten hated her. Even when Sammy was an old cat he would go to anybody but Robyn for a cuddle but would ignore all her desperate efforts to be kind to him.

When Robyn went to Comprehensive school she was quite liked by her classmates until the day Elsie Dunn had confided in her. A prank had been played on the English teacher and the whole class were to be kept in on the Friday night unless somebody confessed. Friday was the night that Robyn was going to a musical with her mum and dad and she really didn't want to miss it. Elsie confided in Robyn that she'd been the one to play the prank. Robyn adored Miss Curzon the English teacher, and saw her as kind and fair. She went to tell Miss Curzon that it was Elsie Dunn who had misbehaved. Sadly, Miss Curzon had never had much time for Elsie who was given a double detention and Robyn was sent to Coventry by her classmates for an entire week.

The third attempt to fix things was, up till then, probably the worst decision Robyn had ever made. By now, her parents had grown apart; her mother had had an affair and they were on the verge of splitting up. Robyn knew they really loved each other, and once again blundered into a stupid action. She phoned each parent, telling them that she'd been mugged and was recovering at home. Could they please come to her? She needed them. She forgot that life wasn't Mills and Boon novels or daytime television. Her parents had been incensed by her deception and the stupid lie only drove them further apart. Soon they divorced and Robyn had the guilt of that to live with.

Poor Robyn genuinely wanted to help people and after losing her job to redundancy, searched for voluntary work in her area. Holby wanted volunteers to work in their Mortality Café, which was linked to their local hospital. This café was a place where people who had been bereaved or were terminally ill could meet and discuss their situation together. One day a man called Glen came in, and he and Robyn began a conversation. He told her about his wife, Emma, who had died of cancer, Robyn told him about wanting to help people, and they found they had plenty in common.

Then, at the end of one long chat session in the café, Glen and Robyn kissed. Unsure of her feelings and worried that Glen might have just been trying to start a relationship out of loneliness and desperation, Robyn had made an excuse and had fled.

Robyn also struck up a friendship with a nurse from the hospital, Louise, who thought her new friend would make good nurse material, was interested in the café and how it worked. She coaxed Robyn to tell her more about her life, and though she was blunt in saying some of the things her new friend had done in the past were "bloody stupid", she reassured her that she wasn't the biggest villain in the world either. As Robyn walked her friend back to hospital for her late shift one night, she saw Glen approaching her.

"I'm sorry about the kiss-" she began awkwardly. Glen smiled.

"I've not been able to think of anything else" he confessed, adding:

"Do you work here?"

"I don't, but Lou does. She's just going into work now."

"Ooh, get rid of me, why don't you?" Louise huffed, but her smile belied her words.

Soon Robyn and Glen were dating regularly. Robyn should have been happy but she did wonder how Glen could start a new relationship so soon after losing Emma. Foolishly, she asked Louise to do some digging and there was nothing more that Louise liked than digging.

Robyn walked into the pub and her heart sank at Louise's worried face.

"Robyn" she said quietly, "Emma never existed."

Somehow Louise had got Robyn home that night. Robyn would have welcomed Louise staying with her to comfort her, but knew that her friend had to be up for work the next day, so she persuaded Louise to go home. Then she sobbed herself to sleep.

Robyn carried on with her life almost on auto-pilot. Then one day Glen came back into the Mortality café where Robyn had chosen to go on working. He'd begged for another chance. What he had confided to her was more heartbreaking than anything she'd encountered previously.

Glen had cancer and he was afraid. Day after day Robyn would see the fear in his eyes. Soon he'd not have the strength to go out alone any more; soon he'd be in hospital, battling the pain every day. He told her of people he'd spoken to in the café who had said that some cancers didn't kill quickly, it was a slow deterioration. Robyn dreaded the pain that lay in store for the man she cared about so much, but not as much as she dreaded living without him.

She knew she couldn't persuade Louise to help her with her latest plan to fix things. She'd be more likely to lose a good friend and even incur a visit from the police. But desperation had made Robyn crafty. She knew how loose Louise's tongue could be when she was off her face.

Louise, looking the worse for wear, giggled:

"Oh, a novel? Hmmm… well if the heroine can't persuade her friend to steal drugs for her it'll have to be the over-the-counter painkiller trick. Not prescript-ip-iption drugs, those that you buy over the counter. And not from th'same pharmacy… different ones…"

She'd travelled from chemist to chemist over the next few weeks, then finally had what she needed. Enough for both of them. Glen wasn't going to die in pain and she… no, she wouldn't think too much about it or she'd weaken.

"I shouldn't drink" slurred Glen, "But just for once… why not?"

He sipped the brandy then raised his glass to her.

"To us, Robyn. For however long we have left."

She kissed him hard and then said calmly:

"I'll go and make us both a strong coffee. Sober us both up a bit, eh?"

Her last memory was of a frightened moan coming from Glen, as she held him. He'd realised what she'd done.

She looked round the room in despair.

"She wanted to help him" Ben was brave enough to say to David.

David froze Ben with a look.

"Oh she helped him. She helped him to die reasonably painlessly."

He turned his cold attention to Robyn:

"Did you know that when you two were examined by the coroner, Robyn, that Glen was found to be in remission? Once again you fixed something the wrong way, didn't you?"

He turned his attention from the sobbing woman and turned on Ben.

"Since you keep trying to interrupt me, I think we should hear your story next."

The ginger-haired man stood as if in protest. David's voice was unusually gentle.

"Yes, Dylan. You're involved in this. You'll speak straight after Ben."


	6. Chapter 6

JUDGED CHAPTER SIX BEN AND DYLAN

(A/N: Warning for mentions of domestic violence. Apologies that this section will run over two chapters, but it does concern two different characters. Also, the Immigration laws mentioned in this chapter are purely fctional.)

Ben Chiltern was a genuinely kind and compassionate man. When he was a small boy his mum took him to see Bambi. He had wept bitterly over the fate of the little deer's mother, but had been enchanted by the rest of the film. From then on, Ben wanted to 'be good to animals'. He loved it when his turn came round to look after one of the school pets, and they were all safe in his hands. His mother asked him if he'd like a pet for his seventh birthday and he'd shaken his head.

"I thought you loved animals, Ben."

"I do. But please can I be a vet for my birthday then I can help _all_ animals?"

His mum had told him gently that being a vet took lots and lots of hard work and you couldn't buy it. Ben vowed he'd do the work, and twenty years later, he'd achieved his goal. But he wasn't just kind to animals. Ben was patient with dithering old ladies and nervous children. He paid into charity collections and, more importantly, did voluntary work for them. When his assistant at the surgery told him he was looking tired and needed a holiday, Ben wisely heeded her words. He booked a holiday independently in early October, through the Internet, to a small mid-European country called Valamain.

It was one of the loveliest places Ben had ever visited, and he savoured every moment of his two- week break. Especially as he met Sapphira there. She'd been a waitress in the local taverna and Ben noticed that on some days she looked strained and anxious. He also noticed how beautiful she was, with her chestnut- coloured hair and melting brown eyes. One night a man came into the restaurant and threatened her. Ben stood quietly between them and asked the man to leave. He was spat at for his pains but an angry command from the restaurant's owner made the intruder sidle out. Ben offered to see Sapphira home and she was grateful. She confided in Ben that night and he learned that she had managed to get a divorce from her violent husband but that occasionally he would still threaten her at work.

It was only a matter of days until Ben and Sapphira became lovers. One night he noticed ugly bruises on her back and arms. She told him everything and ended up crying on his chest. She felt his own tears falling into her hair as he held her, murmuring how he loved her, how he'd never let anybody hurt her again. They queued for over three hours in the Embassy the next day but at the end of it Sapphira had a temporary visa and would be going home with Ben at the end of his holiday. She had four months' time before her visa ran out.

Before that happened, they met the irritable ex-pat Dylan Keogh. Dylan had moved from the UK, of which he was heartily sick, with his dog, an old Lurcher called Dervla.

"I had to lose her to quarantine for six months, but she's here to stay now, aren't you, Stinky?" Dylan addressed the dog.

"Is she a good guard dog?" Sapphira asked, thinking how safe she'd feel with a large dog like Dervla in the house.

"Useless; the old fool's as soft as a brush" Dylan snorted, ruffling Dervla's fur. Then he said baldly:

"I've a better way of defending myself."

Ben wondered what he meant but didn't pursue the subject. By the time Ben went back to the UK, Dylan, who normally begrudged any time he had to spend on a computer, was exchanging e-mail addresses with him.

The time Sapphira and Ben spent together was, for them, idyllic. She didn't seem to mind the cold winter weather in Britain; she just kept saying how good it was to be away from Valamain, away from HIM. Ben had asked her about calling the police and she'd laughed bitterly:

"The police in my country aren't too concerned about a woman being beaten, Ben. Half of them think she must have deserved it."

Christmas was special for them. He took her to a pantomime and his heart filled with warmth at the way she marveled over the special effects and giggled at the silly slapstick gags. On Christmas Eve they decorated a Christmas tree together, smiling at their handiwork.

The same night, she had the first nightmare. Her ex – who she'd finally mentioned by his name, Ramon Kyriou – was in a room with her. He was slapping a leather belt with a hard gold buckle, from hand to hand and telling her how he'd mark her face for life.

She'd awoken screaming and clinging to Ben. Then she ran to the bathroom to be ill, and came back shaking.

"The first week in January is nearly here, Ben, when I must go back. I – I can't go back there alone. If I do, I will kill myself, I swear it."

"If you're my wife they won't send you back" he said, the simplicity of what he'd just said suddenly thrilling him. He asked her to marry him, knowing he loved her with all his heart. She agreed joyfully.

The new immigration laws, however, were not so flexible. They could extend Sapphira's stay in the UK for three more months, but then she would have to return to Valamain.

She clung to Ben, weeping, that night.

It was as she lay in his arms that Ben had his inspiration. He'd ask Dylan about moving to Valamain himself. If Sapphira had to go back she wasn't going there alone.

Dylan, although he would never have admitted he'd worked so hard for his new friend, tirelessly searched websites, spoke to people in the neighbourhood, went to the Tourist Information centre which he loathed because it was always full of noisy, over-enthusiastic travelers asking the most inane questions. Dylan had sworn under his breath on hearing a young girl ask where the theme parks were. But eventually he found Ben a job; a clerical position in the city centre. As Ben was fluent in French, the language spoken in Valamain, it was a job he could manage. Not with his beloved animals, but now he had a more important goal – keeping Sapphira safe. Ben's visa was renewed for another two years, with a view to a further renewal at the end of that period.

The thing that surprised Dylan most about himself was the way he'd suggested that, until they had some money behind them, Ben and Sapphira lived with him. He had a large spare room, they both liked Dervla, and Dylan knew Ben would not default on the rent.

By the time Ben was thirty-three, he was a legitimate citizen of Valamain, and Sapphira was pregnant.


	7. Chapter 7

JUDGED SEVEN – BEN AND DYLAN

Somehow the news of Sapphira's pregnancy reached Ramon Kyriou, who accosted Ben and his wife as they were strolling through the market one day. Ben had told Kyriou to stay away from them, but was deeply upset by the obvious terror Sapphira had felt. She'd clung to Ben that night, and jumped at the tiniest little sound outside the house that they now were able to afford to rent together.

Dylan and Dervla had called round the next day. He was shocked to see how uneasy the couple were, and had asked Ben to go and see him privately the next day.

"I'll leave Dervla with you" he told Sapphira, "She's harmless but she's a big dog. People like Kyriou are cowards. If he sees her he'll fear the worst."

In Dylan's cellar he revealed how he would deal with burglars or intruders.

"A gun?" Ben, the pacifist, was horrified.

"I'm not telling you to blow anybody's head off" Dylan had joked then, "But it's amazing how the sight of one of these things can send intruders running home to Mummy."

In the end, against all his principles, Ben allowed Dylan to buy a gun on his behalf and teach him how to use it. He never confided this to Sapphira. Maybe if he had, she might have felt secure after all.

Things were quiet for a little longer, then one night Ben, Dylan, Sapphira and Dervla went out to the usual Taverna for a meal. It was to be a celebration of Ben and Dylan's friendship and of Sapphira's pregnancy.

"What about Dervla?" asked Sapphira, stroking the old dog who lay quietly at their feet.

"And the sheer glory of Dervla!" Ben had laughed, stroking the animal gently.

Kyriou had lurched in, drunk. He'd begun to bluster and insult Sapphira, calling her a slut. Dervla had struggled to her feet, barking loudly. There had been chaos, and in the melee, Kyriou had managed to knock Sapphira flying before Ben, totally out of character, had punched him. Sapphira was rushed to hospital, with Ben holding her hand in the ambulance. By morning, Sapphira had lost the baby. The doctor had told her gently but firmly that there would be no more babies.

A broken-hearted Ben had done his best to comfort her. He'd held her, wept with her, assured her time after time that he loved her.

"Do you want to go back to the UK for a while? Just to get away?" he'd asked tenderly.

She'd nodded, shuddering against his chest, and Ben had sorted out the visas and tickets for them.

Dylan, always blunt about his feelings, had told Ben he and Sapphira would be missed.

"I never thought I'd be saying this, Ben, but you've become like a younger brother to me. Sapphira's one of those rare women who were born with brains and I'll miss her too. Don't stay away too long, will you?"

Ben had astounded Dylan by seizing him in a bear hug.

"Well, I'd always dreamed it would be Angelina Jolie doing that, but you'll do" Dylan had joked.

Ben had gone round for a drink with Dylan two days before they were due to fly home. Sapphira had said quietly that she would be fine on her own:

"He can't take any more from me, Ben."

So, reluctantly, Ben had gone to enjoy Dylan and Dervla's company for a couple of hours. He'd not suspected anything unusual.

He'd got back and had called to Sapphira to let her know he was home. There was no response.

He ran up the stairs, foreboding eating at his soul.

Sapphira lay on the bed, her colour drained, an empty bottle of the pills the doctor had given her to make her sleep by her side. She'd left Ben a note:

"Sweet Ben, you almost made it work for me. You managed to give me a reason to keep going. Then HE took everything. I love you but I can't live like this. Not without a future, not without children. God bless you, Ben."

Ben was still cradling her lifeless body against his heart when the doctor had arrived.

He'd walked like an automaton into the town and asked where Kyriou was. Not realising what he intended to do, one or two people had directed Ben to a sleazy bar. Kyriou was propping up the counter, guzzling wine and sniggering.

"Kyriou."

Ben's voice had been soft but it carried nevertheless.

Kyriou had turned round.

Ben had taken the gun from within his jacket and fired once into Kyriou's forehead. No pain; instant oblivion. Even this new, broken Ben couldn't be entirely cruel.

He'd sat there like a calm little boy until the police, themselves armed, broke in. They realised they wouldn't need weapons to arrest Ben. He walked out with them quietly.

After the trial Dylan had desperately begged people in the UK to sign a petition. Several had signed, including the shocked members of Ben's family, but it had not been enough. Ben was lethally injected a month after the petition had been submitted to the Valamanian government, and rejected by them. He was told his mother wanted to come over and visit him, but he'd not let her. He'd asked, in the final note he sent her, to remember him as he used to be. As somebody who wanted to help everybody. His one request had been granted; that a photograph of Sapphira was buried with him.

Dylan, eaten by shock and guilt, did nothing to help himself when he was arrested for supplying Ben with the murder weapon. He was sentenced to six years in prison, and went about his life on auto pilot. His fellow inmates expected him to be paroled in a year. Before that, however, he made the mistake of disagreeing with Stellios, a long-term prisoner with a vicious temper. A fight ensued and suddenly Dylan felt the sensation of a stabbing pain between his ribs. Then blood coming from his mouth.

Then seeming to travel through time and space, and finding himself sitting in the cold room once more.

The floppy-haired young man looked aghast.

"You'd have walked free if you'd lived in the UK" he protested.

"Yes" David's cold voice cut him off, "But he chose to leave everything he had for one woman so he had to abide by a stricter law."

Ben smiled sadly at Max.

"He's right."

"Your story is so unfair" the beautiful Oriental woman sighed.

David turned to her.

"Your opinion. But let's see who thinks your own story is _fair_ , Lily. Tell us what you did."


	8. Chapter 8

With grateful thanks to Sweeet-as-Honey for all her helpful input here.

JUDGED EIGHT LILY

Lily had always found it hard to make friends. Always the outsider at school, she would rather sit and read a book or play with her own little mini theatre at home, devising roles for the cut-out characters and acting them out, than make friends. On the one occasion she had invited a friend round to see the theatre and play with the dolls, she'd been disgusted by the plot her friend had wanted.

"Let's have a scene where some boys sneak into the school!"

"They do not want boys. They are training for the ballet."

Sharon, her friend, had looked at her in rage.

"You're a misery, Lily Chao. Everybody knows stories are more fun with boys in them!"

Lily had never asked Sharon to come and play again. Like the dolls, endlessly striving for ballet perfection, Lily had striven doggedly towards a career in medicine. Unlike Ben, who had worked hard to be a vet because of his love of animals, Lily just wanted to prove she could reach her goals.

As she grew older her dreams were realised. She was soon a respected doctor in a prestigious hospital. Whereas her colleagues sought her opinion and were a little bit afraid of her, nobody actually liked her. They did feel, however, that they should make an effort with her. When Morgan, one of the popular nurses, asked her to go out to a nightclub, she'd replied in horror:

"But you are working tomorrow!"

"So are you. Oh come on, Lily. You don't have to stay all night; just book yourself a taxi for eleven o'clock."

"Half past ten."

She'd booked the taxi but had been waylaid by the handsome doctor Michael Kendal, who had kept her talking. Michael, when he'd had a little to drink, could become egotistic and hated it when his 'audience' showed signs of leaving. When Lily had become anxious about her ride home, he'd shrugged:

"You can call another one."

Lily had become angry. She needed to go home, to get the right amount of sleep. Besides, she hated this small-talk that she could hardly hear anyway above the loud disco beat.

"That is rude to the driver and to the taxi company. I shall go now!"

"On your way then, Chilly Lily" he snapped.

Sadly, he'd kept her too long. The cab driver had given up on her and driven away. Lily had to walk through town, dodging wolf-whistles, cat-calls and even one man trying to grab her arm. She'd had to join a long queue and arrived home at twenty to twelve. She felt that she'd let herself down badly.

The next day she had not only the misery of a headache from the previous evening's noise and feeling exhausted, but she overheard the covert whispers of her colleagues:

"Mike says she's a real miseryguts. I'm not asking her out again."

"You could see she just wanted to bolt for home all the time. And she never bought a round, the stingy cow!"

For six months the staff stuck to their guns and didn't ask her out with them. Then Diana, who Lily liked and trusted more than the others, was about to be married. Once again Lily was unfortunate enough to overhear the conversation:

"She'll never come on a hen night. She doesn't know how to have a good time!"

"I LIKE her and it is my party after all. I'm going to ask her."

"Well you stick by her all night then, Di, because if I have to put up with Chilly Lily and her Arctic ways, I'll end up bopping her on the nose!"

Chilly Lily. The words danced in Lily's head. When Diana came over to ask her she received a bright smile in return.

"I would love to come, please, and the first round is on me!"

Diana whooped, which made Lily jump a little, and hugged her.

"I'm so glad you're coming."

It might have been different if she'd only stuck to mineral water. But the sex toys the girls were waving around were becoming embarrassing – well, repulsive to Lily– and she needed to fortify herself. She asked for a cocktail and the girls in the group cheered and slapped her on the back. Her defences were down. She ordered another cocktail, and another…

The next morning she knew she wasn't fit for work. Her head was pounding, she was unable to eat because of nausea, but her pride told her, she had to go. Doctor Lily Chao was needed.

The cab driver had asked her if she was sure she was all right. She nodded frostily and he gave up on her, only speaking again to ask her for her fare when they reached the hospital. To make him feel small rather than through goodwill, she'd given him a large tip and made her way unsteadily into work. She splashed her face with cold water, hoping it would be an uneventful shift.

It was anything but, thanks to a RTA that meant a long line of patients to treat. The first one was wheeled in.

"Mary Sinclair, aged sixty. Suffering from…"

Lily tried desparately to focus. The smell of Mary's blood made her feel a little queasy. She fought it and walked towards Resus. An arm caught hers.

"Doctor Chao, are you quite well? You don't look it. It's not being a failure to admit you're ill. Why not go home?"

She, Lily Chao, being sent home in disgrace? Her gaze grew steely.

"This patient needs me. She NEEDS me. She needs ME."

Shaking off her colleague's hand, Lily walked into the room ahead.

According to the echocardiography, Mary would need a cardiac tamponade. Fluid had filled the space between the heart muscle and the sac that encased it. Lily could feel her hands shaking a little, and her head still spinning. Maybe she should ask if she could go home after all.

She gave herself a sharp reality check. Lily Chao did not go running home because of a headache. She could do this… she consulted the notes again. Then she looked round her and saw other patients being wheeled in. She checked again. Yes, Mary could wait for a further twelve to forty eight hours for her operation. It could be postponed and there were others to help. The litany played over and over in Lily's head:

"I am needed, I am needed. I have to save as many as I can."

She had to face Mary's grieving daughter, who had made things worse for Lily by telling her she understood.

"That accident was carnage" she said with quiet dignity, "And you did what you thought best for my mum. You had others to save."

But Lily knew the truth. She hadn't saved any of the others. After making the decision on Mary, her nausea had been too much and she'd fled to the ladies. She'd lost precious time. When she'd come back into the theatre, she'd been told sharply to take a break by her superior. Several times during the afternoon she'd been reprimanded for carelessness – she'd actually brushed back her hair with her fingers and hadn't attempted to remove her gloves, as she should have. She'd had to be prompted all the time.

Then the stern, pale-faced Clinical Lead had called her into the office and told her bluntly that Mary Sinclair had died because her operation had been delayed.

The words "I failed her; I could have failed others" beat in her pulses as she ran blindly from the hospital.

I must go home, I must go home, her mind screamed.

Then she blundered into the busy street and the next thing she knew, she was in this ghastly room with David's deep-set eyes boring into her.

"You should have been honest and told them you were unwell" the small blonde woman said.

David let out one bitter, barking laugh.

"Rita, of course, would know all about honesty, wouldn't you, Rita? Tell them."

Between tears, the pretty blonde told her story.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N Rita's character is not quite the same as the one in Casualty. Warning: Mentions of murder, under aged sex and assault.

JUDGED CHAPTER NINE – RITA

Rita Freeman was good at lying to get herself out of trouble. She'd often invented non-running buses, problems with her demanding mother or siblings, or other catastrophes as an excuse for being late for school. The teacher, who liked pretty blonde Rita, believed her time and time again, despite the cynicism of her classmates.

Rita's academic record was disappointing to her parents, but she'd managed to convince them that it was nerves that spoiled her concentration in the exams and not the lack of revision. They told her she could stay on another year and retake her "O" levels but, feeling a trifle guilty, she wanted to start paying her way. She managed to get a job in a clerical company where once again, her wide-eyed innocent look saved her from being fired on several occasions. The trouble was that somebody had to be responsible for the missing files and inaccurate calculations and her colleagues became tired of being summoned to the line manager's office to explain themselves. Rita might have been popular with Management but she had very few real friends at work. This suited her; she disliked socialising as she'd learned that she couldn't hold her drinks and had made a fool of herself once or twice. But for those who tried to encourage her to go out, she always had an excuse. Her old dog wasn't very well and she was worried about him. Her mother – Rita still lived with her parents – didn't like her going out at night. In time the invitations ceased, which was convenient for Rita, who was running out of alibis.

It hadn't been so easy to fabricate an excuse not to attend a cousin's wedding, and so reluctantly, she'd gone along, knowing a headache or stomach cramps could always 'just happen' when the people she had to mix with began to irritate her. She met Mark, a teacher, there and liked him very much. So much that when he asked her to go to the cinema with him the next week, she didn't need or even want to make an excuse not to go. Soon she was convinced that she and Mark were in love with one another.

Rita liked children but didn't want any too soon, and so the exaggerations began again. Her firm needed her. When redundancy hit the company, she lost that safety-net and had to fabricate other reasons. Maybe if she'd just been honest and admitted that she wanted a few child-free years, Mark would have understood. But he felt rejected and he strayed. Unfortunately the object of his desire was an underaged pupil. Rita found out in the most unpleasant way – she'd been invited to one of the women's houses for a coffee morning, and had overheard two of them gossiping about her and Mark.

"Tracey says she could have given up her job years ago but she didn't want kids. Well, he's certainly got a kid now!"

"Lisa, that's horrible!"

"It's true though. Miss Hampton caught them together in the cloakroom the other week. She told Claire – you know, the games teacher – and Claire's a mate of Tracey's. They both had an evening in drinking shots, and Claire just spilled the beans to Tracey. Jenny, this kid's called. Sixteen years old. Disgusting, I call it. Still, I'm not sorry for little Miss Frosty-pants."

Rita sent an anonymous message to the school. The Headmistress was reluctant to take the message further, despising the kind of people who pass on such warnings without giving their names, but knew she had to investigate. More evidence, more coincidences. Mark was arrested and served a term in prison. During that time, Rita found her usual excuses not to visit him, and separated from him legally after two years.

After his release, Rita became a little uneasy that he'd try and move back into their home, but she'd started a relationship with a quiet young man called Paul, who told her he'd protect her. Rita decided it was worth embellishing the truth a little. Although Mark had often verbally insulted Rita and raised his voice to her, he'd never hurt her physically. Rita managed to convince Paul that Mark had beaten her, and he and Rita had formed a united front against Mark, who had become dependent on alcohol and soon found himself at his lowest. He'd managed to climb out of the gutter he'd fallen into, including a relationship with Marie, a social worker, who was gentle, patient and actually saw some good in Mark. Soon, thanks to her help, Mark had a job and he and Marie were renting a flat.

One day while Rita was out shopping, she spotted Mark and Marie. She dodged into the next aisle, but knew Mark had seen her. From then on she'd become paranoid. Mark was still living in the same town, she told Paul, he shopped at her local supermarket. He might pay her a visit to see if he had any claims to his own home. Rita's fears escalated and eventually drove Paul away. Mark's fault. Now she had no Paul to protect her and that swine was still out there somewhere. How soon before he started bothering her? One night the inevitable happened; she ran into Mark when he was on his own. He was gruff with her, but not threatening, but to Rita it was enough to send her home to the drinks cupboard, on which she'd been relying more than ever since Paul left. Another incident – she'd treated herself to a night at the cinema, forgetting how much Mark liked action films too. There he was, in the audience. Rita felt queasy. Would he always dog her footsteps like this?

A few weeks later she was to remember that cinema trip. The newspapers were full of the latest story – a young schoolgirl, not far from where Mark and Marie lived, had been raped and murdered. Mark had been stupid enough to have had a fling with the victim despite his past record. The murder had taken place at the time when Rita knew full well that she and Mark were safely in the cinema. He'd argued with his teenage girlfriend earlier, and she'd scratched his face in a rage, but he'd left her alive and safe enough and had stormed off to the cinema to clear his head. He'd mentioned his ex-wife seeing him in the cinema.

By a clever tissue of lies about time and place, Rita had seen that her ex husband had been jailed for life for the girl's murder. Which was a great pity, for if the real killer had been jailed instead, he wouldn't have caught Rita unawares on her way home from a night in the local – Rita had long since given up her battle with alcohol. The killer had intended to assault Rita, but had heard sounds in the background. To his disturbed mind that simply meant 'finish the job as quickly as possible', and his hands had closed around Rita's throat…

"You've got it wrong" Rita whispered, "I didn't kill Mark. I got him arrested for life on a f-false charge."

David's gaze seared into her.

"Pretty little liar, eh? You knew full well what Mark had told the papers on his release after his first arrest. That he'd learned his lesson. That if he were ever banged up again, he'd not be able to take it, and he'd top himself. Well, guess what he managed to do in his cell, Rita?"

Rita, shaking and sobbing, couldn't, for once, deny her guilt.

"You've no heart, have you?" the young floppy-haired man said to David wearily, but the smaller, older man, the one with the dark hair, just snapped:

"Oh, grow up!"

"Ah, Iain. I think we'd all like to be reminded of how you deal with people who need to grow up. Come on, we're all waiting."


	10. Chapter 10

A/N Warning for drugs, alcohol and mentions of bullying.

JUDGED TEN – IAN AND MAX

Iain Dean should never have been a manager in a busy office. He would have been far better suited to a career in the forces, as he was later to realise. He was the kind of boss who, if he took a liking to a member of staff, usually female, would slyly promote them. The females he expected a special reward from, but the men he promoted were expected to spread the word about "good old Iain" and to buy him drinks at office parties.

Conversely, if he disliked somebody he could make their life a misery. Iain believed in working by the book and would clamp down on any kind of innovation. Poor Max Walker, the latest team member, and the last one Iain was to be in charge of, learned this to his cost.

Max tried, he really did. He was like a puppy, eager to learn. Iain's flesh crawled when he met men like that. Girls, yes, he liked girls who were eager to please but not his male staff. On the few occasions where he found a reason to praise Max, his employee's eager "Thank you, Mr Dean!" would grate on Iain's nerves. He began to withdraw the praise and sought to criticise Max's work instead.

"Max, did I ask you to complete that spreadsheet by midday or not? And didn't I ask you to do it on your own? Why have you bothered Wayne?"

"It's no trouble, Iain" Wayne said quickly, "There were just a couple of queries he had that he needed sorting."

"He should have come to me, then. Thanks, Wayne."

Max struck up a friendship with pretty Zoe Hanna, the head of one of the other teams. She was reasonably sympathetic to Max's problems, but when he started to complain about Iain's attitude to him, she laughed it off.

"It's because he thinks you whine, Max" she confided after a couple of drinks one night.

"I don't mean to whine; I just get upset if I feel I've let the team down."

"Oh don't be so intense, it's not healthy at this time of night!" mocked Zoe.

Max, who'd been intending to ask her on a date, felt rebuffed and just smiled weakly.

The next evening, Iain, who'd witnessed Max's feeble attempt with Zoe the previous evening, made his own move on Zoe and was successful.

Max took to drowning his sorrows. Not to the point of being ejected from pubs but to the point of sometimes needing two painkillers before he set out for work because his hangover was making him feel nauseous.

Then one evening he was out with a friend when he saw Iain and Zoe entering the same bar. He hastily looked away, but heard Zoe shouting his name loudly. Clearly the worse for wear already, she was dragging Iain over to him.

"NO, Zoe" chuckled Iain, only half-joking, "I see enough of this one every day as it is."

"Aw, he's all right, aren't you, Maxy?"

"I don't think we have anything to say to each other, do we, Zoe?"

Iain noticed Max's belligerent tone.

"You can pack in that attitude, lad, because in a couple of weeks we're having a team-building weekend where we all have to bond. An army-style boot camp. Soon make a man of you!"

"If it's the weekend it's not compulsory. I'd be better off not coming to this" Max said hastily.

Iain held out his hands with mocking defensiveness.

"Of course you can choose not to come, if you really have something better to do. It's just that it would look so much better on the annual appraisals. If you ever want to move into a higher salary bracket, lad, make an effort!"

Max made an effort. He tried as hard as he could on the boot camp weekend, but everything was too much for him. Iain enjoyed trumpeting his failures to the rest of the team.

"Oh look, Max is stuck again. Come on, lad, get into shape! Look, Zoe's doing much better than you! How does it feel to be beaten by a woman?"

"I'm not aware that the word 'woman' was an insult, Iain" Zoe had said coldly, and that had been the end of their relationship. Zoe felt mean about her previous treatment of Max and did her best to build bridges, but Max, too deeply hurt, had refused to forgive her mistakes, and would barely speak to her, except when it was necessary at work.

The final betrayal came when the appraisals were given. Max actually felt his colour draining when he'd read his. "Could try harder but only makes the minimum effort needed to perform mundane tasks…. Refused to bond with others in the team building exercise… resents me as a manager and deliberately makes obstacles." Needless to say there was no chance of Max moving up into a higher salary bracket.

Drinking became his only friend but whereas once he could manage to attend work even with a splitting headache, now he would ring in sick when it suited him. Iain enjoyed having him in the office and telling him to get his act together before he was fired. Max would go home and indulge in fantasies of killing Iain, stabbing him over and over, snapping his neck, running over him in a secluded lane near the office. But his bitter laughter at these thoughts was always interrupted by the shriek of the alarm clock. Time to get up and face his tormentor once more.

It was a 'friend of a friend' who offered Max the final temptation.

"Drugs? I don't smoke" he had said naively, and the man had laughed and told him there were other ways to 'get happy'. After one of the nights where he 'got happy' he'd realised that he had to go into work later. He'd had a written warning about his attendance.

Iain was giving instructions to the team about the new files he'd set up on the computer. Figures and symbols danced before his eyes. Suddenly the nausea was too much for him, and he fled the office, hearing Iain's outraged bellow behind him. He received a phone call from Iain's superior that evening telling him his employment had been terminated and that his final salary and any belongings he'd left behind would be posted on to him. As an added twist of the knife, the manager had given Max the telephone number of a drug rehabilitation centre.

Max never bothered. He drew out some of his savings, and found the 'friend of a friend', demanding something more effective than the substance he'd previously used. It was when the something more effective was fully in his system that Max decided that the water in the river near the office looked inviting. He didn't so much jump in with the intention of drowning himself, as walk in, laughing like a child at how nice the water felt. Even when it was right over his head.

He might have been happy to know that Zoe had gone to his funeral and had spent almost a week crying, wishing she could have found the right words to say to get him to forgive her. When Zoe found the courage to suggest that Iain's manager looked into the office records, he found evidence of bullying. Because of the firm's image, the official reason for Iain's dismissal was 'redundancy.' This meant that there was no record of an actual disciplinary sacking, which made it easier for Iain to join the armed forces six months later.

His last living thought, crazy as it seemed to him, was that the guy in the foreign uniform who confronted him looked a little like Max in his face. That was a split-second before the man pulled the pin from the grenade and threw it.

"I never asked the fool to drown himself" Iain snapped.

"And Max didn't kill anybody" said Alicia in puzzlement.

"So you see taking your own life and throwing away what a powerful force has created, as blameless?"

Max actually looked like a chastised schoolboy as he muttered:

"I'm sorry."

"Be that as it may, it's time for you all to choose your doors. Choose carefully, friends-" David actually used the word 'friends' – "As this is where you will be for eternity."

Alicia began to cry. Ben patted her shoulder.

David pointed to the doors, one on the left and one the right, which were glowing with faint light.

"Time to choose, Alicia."


	11. Chapter 11

JUDGED ELEVEN

THE CHOICES BEGIN

A/N: Thanks to everybody for their reviews. Just a disclaimer; just because I've made Iain and possibly David the bad guys here doesn't mean that's how I see them in Casualty.

Alicia walked uncertainly to the doors.

"You're allowed to look inside each for a second or two, then make your choice."

Alicia took a deep breath and opened the door on the left. A row of desks and people talking into telephones, frantically taking notes. And, to her joy, she thought, I know this, this is the eternal office from hell. Constant work, no breaks. No thanks!

She looked into the second room and smiled. This was her favourite room when she was a child. Her little nook away from the world. She could see the familiar bookshelves, the comfortable sofa she liked to curl up on.

"Right door, please!" she said to David, without even giving him time to address her.

His eyes bored into her.

"You're sure?"

"Yes!"

"Then let me show you what you have rejected" said David, and Alicia bit back a giggle, thinking how he sounded like a sinister games show host. He led her to the door on the left. The office was visible again. But this time, everybody was on a break. Laughing together, exchanging photos from holidays or of loved ones. And was that Mandy waving to her? Her heart sank a little as David closed the door.

"Now, to your new home for eternity."

It's my home, it can't be so bad, she thought frantically, and walked through the door on the right, sitting on the sofa, snuggling into its warmth.

The armchair opposite her swung round.

"Hello, Alicia. My goodness, you look worse than ever; you've been letting yourself go downhill."

Alicia recoiled from her mother's spiteful face.

"And look" her mother gloated, "Here's Willow for you! She'll be here for ever and ever."

David closed the door on the screaming Alicia.

"Ethan. The man whose adulterous affair killed his brother. Which will YOU choose?"

Ethan took a deep breath and walked to both doors. David opened the one on the left.

Inside was a massive table, laden with all the food Ethan loved. Goblets and glasses full of the best wine, fresh fruit, everything luxurious. But there was something missing.

"May I see the other door please?" he asked, polite even in his terror.

The door on the right didn't open on to such an attractive sight. Two people lay there, bleeding, moaning, injured. They couldn't hold out their arms for help but their eyes begged it.

And suddenly Ethan understood.

"I choose the door on the right, please."

"Always polite. You can go inside in one moment. Come and see if you'll regret your choice. First, your rejection."

Again the door swung open on the feast but this time it revealed figures; painfully skeletal figures who stretched out hopefully towards the food, but thanks to their shackles, were too far away to snatch even a morsel. Their sobs made Ethan feel like weeping too.

"They're not your problem any more. Come."

Ethan was led to the door on the right. Still the injured people. But this time they were lying on a hospital bed, connected to tubes, while a smiling Cal in a doctor's scrubs, smiled at him.

"Your heart led you here, little brother. And when I've saved these lovely people, as I know I will-" he motioned for Ethan to go and look at the lush green fields, blue skies and sparkling seas visible from the huge window, "-It's peace and rainbows for us two for ever."

Weeping with relief and joy, Ethan stood by and watched his brother perform a miracle with the other smiling hospital staff. It hardly seemed as if any time had passed at all before the staff were congratulating Cal, and wheeling the patients to recovery, while Cal washed his hands before leaving the 'hospital' to enjoy enternity with Ethan.

David closed the doors and this time there was no eerie screaming from behind them. The others knew Ethan was safe now.

Not having been vouchsafed the views within the previous doors, those waiting could not know that their choice would depend on their personalities. Alicia had been tripped by her love of comfort and her laziness. Ethan's innate goodness, despite his one slip, had prompted him to choose the hospital room where he knew Cal would be working.

Ben, however, didn't want to wait for a choice when David pointed at him.

"I deserve hell" he said clearly, "I betrayed my beliefs, my convictions, and I killed."

"As you wish" David replied, his voice toneless, "But you still see the doors' contents."

Dylan stood and faced David.

"It was my actions that led Ben to his death. Will you let me share whichever fate he chooses with him?"

"As long as you do not speak out or try to influence him in any way."

"You're a bloody sucker!" Iain sneered at Ben.

"Shut up!" Max snapped at him.

"I would suggest everybody in this room is quiet until I allow them to speak" David's voice was soft but it made Robyn's flesh creep.

David led Ben and Dylan over to the doors and let them look inside the one on the left. Puppies, kittens, rabbits. The kind of animals Ben had treated when he was a vet. Ben's eyes softened, then he sighed. He wasn't allowed to be with them.

"Show me the other door please."

David only had to open the door a fraction for Ben and Dylan to know. Flames leaping, the heat powerful even from where they were standing. Ben looked at Dylan.

"You don't have to-"

"-Oh I do, Ben. I do."

"The door on the right, please" Ben said clearly.

Max gave a small sob; Iain a sneer of disbelief.

"Go forward, then."

David smiled. It was always good when people who came here, to his halfway house, received their just deserts.

And Ben and Dylan walked towards the flames.


	12. Chapter 12

JUDGED TWELVE

Thanks to everybody for their reviews. Apologies that these chapters are shorter than normal, this is to ensure that the chapter will end on what I hope is a cliffhanger.

Suddenly Ben smelt something familiar above the burning. Cinder toffee. Something he had loved when he was small, on one special night every year. The flames lowered to the size of a normal bonfire. And, as he looked up at the sky, he saw the fireworks, remembered chuckling at the bangs and gasping at the pretty colours. He'd not walked into hell but into his favourite childhood pleasure, Firework Night. Suddenly, Sapphira was running towards him.

"Oh Ben, my love… what you went through for me!"

He held her to his chest, burying his face in her hair.

"There was no pain… just a little fear…. And nothing can hurt us again…" he reassured her.

He saw his parents running towards him, and pulled them into the circle of enternal love. Soon he would turn and embrace Dylan, too, but Dylan was busy enough hugging his own parents, and stroking Dervla – the old dog must have passed on – and the joy on his face meant that he wasn't to be disturbed.

David closed the door, looking satisfied. He hated it when the good-hearted made mistakes on earth and he felt vindicated when they finally found their peace by making the right choices. He'd deliberately not shown Ben what he'd rejected. There were animals in that room, true, but if Ben had moved closer to them he would have seen their injuries or signs of incurable diseases - and been unable to move to help them. A true hell for somebody so compassionate, just as the constant sight of the starving people would have tortured Ethan for eternity.

His look remained inscrutable as he gazed at Honey.

"Your turn."

Honey shuddered, then straightened her spine and nodded.

"First, the left door."

Honey saw through the space David had left… but all she saw was a deep blackness. It scared her.

"The door on the right." David motioned with his hand.

This was better! Inside the door were lots of models reclining on couches, strutting down catwalks, putting on what had to be expensive make-up. Honey opened her mouth eagerly to say she wanted this door… but stopped. She'd been bad and greedy, she reasoned like a child, and her dad had died because of it. She couldn't join these beautiful people; she wasn't worthy. She had to grow up and face the darkness on her own.

"I want the left door please."

David nodded once, then led her by the arm to the door that held the darkness. He gave her a little push inside…

And on came the lights. People she loved were cheering, her dad among them, and leading her to a seat in the middle of a table with everybody she loved sitting around it.

"Well done, Honey, love!"

Honey knew she'd have to be brave again; if this was the good door, the scary man would want her to see the bad one.

"Go and look through the door on the right, Honey, then join your family again."

Honey opened the door and almost wept in shock, but the shock was tinged with relief. The models' true faces were shown now. Skin cracking to show the rotten faces underneath the masks. Some of the limbs, broken for fashion's sake in this nightmare world, were twisted at strange angles. A sobbing girl was slapped sharply in the face, her attacker's sharp ring leaving her bleeding and scarred.

"You needn't look any more, Honey. This isn't your door."

She let David close the door and almost ran to the one on the left again, to be embraced and soothed by the people who really mattered to her.

"Lily. You're next."

Lily stood, head erect, and followed David to the doors that he indicated for her. She wondered briefly what had happened to those who had already gone through.

David opened the door on the left and Lily saw a conference table, around which were seated immaculate-looking men and women in executive suits. She noticed a place had been marked for her, and she felt a surge of pride that they wanted to add her to their ranks. They must be the crème de la crème of hospital staff, she reasoned. Then the warning voice beat in her temple. Pride was what caused your misery before. Look at the other door.

David led her to the door on the right. Nursing staff, but on what she would have once sneeringly called the bottom level. Nurses, orderlies, porters. But their eyes were kind and their faces friendly. Lily knew what she had to do. Swallow her pride; begin at the bottom.

"Right door or left door, Lily?" David's cold voice asked.

"I choose the right."

David merely nodded. He led her back to the first room, where the executives' smiles seemed more patronizing, felt they were appraising her.

And then-

"You're to blame for my daughter's death, you arrogant swines" the new voice in the room rasped.

Lily saw somebody making a swift movement, and suddenly there was a loud bang, followed by fire, blood and carnage.

The dead revived, but without joy. They would relive this scene, the shock, the pain, the death, for eternity. The price of arrogance.

David's voice was softer now.

"Enter the other door again, Lily."

She did. A motherly-looking woman ran to embrace her.

"Come in, Lily, lovey. You'll be fine with us. Come and sit down now…"

Lily smiled as she was led into what she now knew to be her second chance.

"Bloody hell mate" grumbled Iain, "You like playing this one out, don't you? I bet we could have been sorted a lot quicker, but you just like piling on the agony don't you?"

David's glare chilled him to the bone.

"More agony for you, Iain. You can wait until Rita and Robyn have made their choices."

Iain sniggered.

"Sorry, Maxy, you get the really short straw. You have to wait till the very end, don't you?"

"Mean to the last" commented David, in a voice filled with loathing, and his voice as he gave his hand to Rita was almost gentle.

"Let's see what you choose, Rita."


	13. Chapter 13

JUDGED CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A/N Thanks again for all the lovely reviews. And one more apology for having to make some of these characters the 'bad guys'. A few mentions of violent injuries.

David led the trembling woman to the doors that could bring her salvation or torment. These doors were a little different. One said "truth" and the other said "dare". Like the old childhood game.

The door on the left, 'truth' opened. A frighteningly severe-looking woman sat there before Rita. Her eyes bored into her.

"I will have the truth from you if you choose this door. Do you understand?"

The last words were barked at Rita sharply.

She nodded. And her knees went weak. Maybe this woman would hear her confession and send her to hell.

"Now look at the other door, Rita."

She looked inside the door marked "dare" on the right. A party seemed to be in progress. People drinking, dancing, laughing.

"Just in time, Rita."

A cocktail was being held out to her.

And, for the first time in her life, Rita Freeman faced up to the truth. These party people, who she'd so badly wanted to fit in with, and failed, wouldn't care what she'd done in the past. And what kind of people didn't want to know a bit more about somebody before befriending them? There was something wrong about them.

She took a deep breath. She'd brave the first door and confess to the old woman.

"I want the door on the left. Truth."

David ushered her in. The old woman motioned her closer.

"Come here, Rita. Tell me everything. All the little lies you've used in the past, all the mean little tricks you used. Sit here."

She indicated a stool at her feet. Rita crouched on it, and began to speak. The old woman held out an imperious hand, stopping her.

"And when you've confessed, Rita, my dear, that will wipe clean your slate and you can enjoy the life you've chosen here. Peace. Safety from the world outside."

The old woman's eyes seemed softer; there was even the trace of a tear in one eye.

"Just one moment. She must see what she rejected before she speaks to you" David said, his voice full of respect for the older woman.

He led Rita to the other door, the one marked "dare" and pushed it open. The people looked different; their eyes harder, their voices more shrill. A young girl walked unsteadily into the room, and Rita gasped at the state of her. She was struggling on broken legs. Every step was obviously pure agony.

"We dared her to jump out of the window, didn't we, Isabel?" shrieked one of the party guests.

"She did it! And when she does it tomorrow… and the day after that… she'll be even more smashed up. Well, tough, Isabel. You chose our eternal parties, didn't you? This is what you get!"

David led Rita away, back to the strict but kind old woman, who nodded at her.

"Speak, child."

As David closed the doors on Rita, Robyn felt sick with fear. But she had no choice, and went haltingly after David.

He showed her to the first door, the one on the left.

A room, full of tired old furniture. It wasn't dirty but everything looked so old, and the sofa and armchair didn't match. Books were piled on the table – oh, she could do so much with this room!

Then she remembered why she was here, and stepped away. She looked up at David, saying softly:

"I think I need to see the other door, please."

She was in a TV studio and the host saw her.

"And here we have little miss fix-it herself, Robyn Miller! You know Robyn, folks. We should all give her a big, big hand for her contribution to society!"

The audience were all on their feet, clapping as if they loved her. But something was very wrong; Robyn could sense it.

"I don't like this room" she said simply, like a child would, "I want to go into the room on the left."

David nodded.

"You need to see why you don't like this room, Robyn, isn't that right?"

"Y-yes."

"Then stay a little longer."

The game show host was running down now, seizing Robyn's hand, running with her to the stage.

"Here she is, the girl who made her kitten, her schoolmates and even her parents, folks, hate her! Wow! But you ain't seen nothing yet! This girl here, ladies and gentlemen, did a mercy killing – on a guy in remission! How's _that_ for messing up, folks?"

The audience jeered at Robyn. David took her trembling hand, forcing the smirking host to release her, and led her quietly to the door on the left.

"You chose this, Robyn… but you have to accept it as it is. No more fixing, do you understand?"

She nodded. He led her inside – and from the ugly old sofa, Glen got up and walked to her, arms held out.

She ran to him.

"Hello, darling. Don't cry any more. I love you. Nothing matters but that, does it?" Glen soothed her.

She nodded, knowing she didn't need to change a thing. Not for all eternity.

David came back to Iain and Max.

"Just me and the loser, then" Iain said, defiant to the last. He got up.

"Don't bother showing me to the doors. I can walk on my own."

"Be my guest" David replied coldly, his voice like steel.

Iain's grin widened as soon as he saw the room on the left's interior. Officers, one at least a General, were looking at him in anticipation and were holding out a small case. Iain could partly see the inscription on the medal inside it. "To Iain Dean, for-" damn, he couldn't see so much. But he didn't need to. It must have been for what happened on my last visit to Iraq, he thought smugly, I must have saved a hell of a lot of people before that guy got to me. I don't remember how, but-

"Now the other door" David reminded him.

"Ah, to hell with the other door; I've seen what I need to, thanks."

"You keep to the rules. Look inside this door."

Iain looked inside, his lip curling. What a shower. A load of sloppy-looking squaddies.

"Other door" he snapped, without so much as a please or thank you.

David motioned to him to go inside. The atmosphere in the room had changed. It was cold and clammy. The officers, too, looked – diseased. He finally saw them as they were. Walking corpses. One of them sniggered, and held out the medal, which said "To Iain Dean, for Excessive Bullying."

"Let's put it on you" said one officer, his breath almost causing Iain to gag.

He jabbed it into Iain, right into his chest. The pain was sharp. Iain began to tremble.

"I-I changed my mind" he whimpered.

David laughed coldly.

"Too late, Iain. You have to live with your choice for eternity."

He led Iain inexorably to the door he'd rejected, and Iain saw the fGriendly faces of the men he'd dismissed as squaddies. He knew they'd have been good mates to him for ever. Too late for that now, he thought bitterly, as David led him to the place he'd chosen to stay in.

"Let's start the fun and games for real" said the General, and the officers closed in on Iain.

Max stood up to meet David as he returned.

"So" he said, trying to sound brave, "My turn for the doors."

David shook his head.

"No doors for you, Max. No choices."

"I go straight to hell?"

David shook his head.

"We have a different method for those who take their own lives. You have to begin again. Follow me."

Max walked after David, who led him to the entrance of a long, dark corridor.

"I'm scared."

"Life scares all humans, Max. Keep walking; soon you'll be back… go now, and good luck."

Max began to walk, then realised the corridors were closing in on him. Yet he felt warm, secure. He walked on unsteady legs, then lost his balance altogether, and found he was just letting the force carry him along through the tunnel. It was dark, so dark… he was truly frightened now and gave a sobbing scream as he was forced into the light. He seemed tiny, almost weightless. Somebody was holding him very gently.

"There you are, Mrs Walker. You've got a lovely, healthy little boy."

David looked back on the empty room. Soon more would come, to either eternal joy or torment, depending on their choices. He wished he could influence some of them, but then the decent ones, like Ben Chiltern and Ethan Hardy, always seemed to choose the right doorway. He sighed heavily. He himself didn't even appear as people expected him to. They expected him to be semi-naked with a fluffy white wingspan. Another false illusion. He sighed heavily. Being an angel wasn't the easiest of callings.


End file.
